Page 44 of Stolen Queen

Her breath releases in a moan. Her body rocks, and I stroke her pussy, drawing out her release, watching in amazement. It’s almost as if I’ve never seen a woman come before. I know I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s beautiful. Powerful. Intense. Something shifts inside me. A feeling of possession. She’s mine. In touching her like this, I’ve staked my claim.

I’m not dumb enough to articulate that. Not to a woman who is seeking autonomy. But it’s there. I’m bound to her as surely as gravity keeps me on earth.

My next thought is how there’s no fucking way this is going to end well for us. I can’t keep her hidden forever. At some point, I’ll either need to arrange for a new identity for her and send her into the world to live her own life, or we’ll be found out. Elio would no doubt make me hand her back to her father. Her father would no doubt kill me. And Ava would be sent off to Nardone or some other fucking bastard who won’t appreciate what a treasure Ava is.

As she comes down from her orgasm, I give her a quick kiss. “As good as your dream?”

Her eyes are closed as a sweet smile spreads on her face. “Better.”

It’s ridiculous how fucking good that makes me feel.

She nestles close to me, and a moment later, she’s asleep. Good. If she’d wanted to deal with my dick, I’d be hard pressed to resist.

I watch her sleep, my brain scrambling to find the solution to our dilemma. I have to figure this out because what has become crystal clear is that she’s mine now. I can’t… I won’t let her go.

17

AVA

Iwake up in a room that's not my own, surrounded by an unfamiliar scent. The sheets are soft underneath me, the pillows plush. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and then it hits me. I'm in Matteo's bed.

My feelings are mixed. Embarrassment, although I don’t know why. Warmth, like I’m in a protected cocoon. Uncertainty. What does all this mean?

I sit up, looking around for him. He's nowhere to be seen, his side of the bed cool to the touch, as if he’s been up for some time.

The sound of running water draws my attention toward the bathroom door. He’s in the shower. I bite my lip as I imagine him naked with hot water sluicing down his body. Unable to contain my curiosity, I slip from bed, noting that I’m fully dressed.

The door is ajar. I wonder if that’s his way of making sure I don’t try to run off. I peek in to see him standing under the warm spray, his face turned upward as he washes shampoo from his hair.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, all raw, masculine beauty. He's tall and lean, muscles etched sharplybeneath his skin. My gaze draws downward over strong, taut abs and lower. I’ve never seen a penis in real life. The memory of how he’d put my hand over his last night, feeling how wide and long and hard it was flashes in my mind. It doesn’t look like that now. I might be innocent and sheltered, but I know how dicks work. I understand why it was hard last night and not now.

I continue to take him in. Without his usual smirk, he looks different, softer, more relaxed. The hard lines of his face smooth out, making him look younger. Not that he’s old. Compared to the old man my father wants to marry me off to, Matteo’s age, nine or ten years older than me, doesn’t seem like an issue at all.

Water cascades down his muscular form, and I trace the paths of the droplets with my eyes. There's something almost mesmerizing about the sight. I've never seen a man like this before. He’s beautiful in a raw, rugged way. His tattoo is an intricate design that I can’t make out from this distance. Even so, his body is like sculpted art.

My thoughts stray back to how it felt when he was touching me last night, guiding my hand to show him what I dreamed about. I should be ashamed of these thoughts. He kidnapped me, after all. But the truth is, I've never felt safer than I do right now, in his home. With him.

My body aches for his touch again. I want to feel his hands on me, his lips against mine. I want to explore every inch of him, to learn what makes him gasp and moan the way I did last night. The thought of him touching me, me touching him, sends a warm gush of sensation straight between my thighs.

A noise escapes my lips before I can stop myself. Matteo’s head jerks toward me, surprise etched on his face as he sees me peeking in on him. Our eyes lock for what feels like an eternity. I finally back away, but not before noticing that his dick is growing hard.

I rush back to the bed, my heart pounding as I hear the water shut off. Sliding under the covers, I try to look casual, as if I hadn't just been caught ogling Matteo in the shower.

He emerges from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water cling to his skin, tracing paths down his chiseled chest and abs. I follow their journey with my eyes, mesmerized, my body tingling with desire.

As he moves closer, the towel seems precarious, and part of me desperately wants it to fall so I can see him in all his naked glory again.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, feeling like a dumb schoolgirl that I seem to have lost my voice. It annoys me, so I pull myself together, flinging the covers off and rising from the bed.

He arches a brow as he watches me. I wonder if he thinks I’m going to flee. Surely, he knows I had a chance to do that when he was in the shower.

Being daring, I step up to him, wrap my arm around his neck, and pull him down for a kiss. He growls in appreciation, tugging me close with only the towel between us. I press my hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

I run my hands over his taut muscles, feeling them ripple beneath my touch. He's like a living statue carved by hand, each muscle defined and perfectly proportional. I feel bold, reckless. I slide my hands down his back, feeling the coolness of wet skin turning warm beneath my touch.

He steps back, his smirk back in place as he looks down on me. “Careful, Princess. You’re playing with fire.”

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